"Won't know for sure until the council decides." She leans against my shoulder, her weight slight but grounding. "But yeah. I think it worked."
Aunt Rene clears her throat. "I'm heading out. But Stone? That poem about the awning? The one where you compared my niece to sunlight through dust?"
I cringe. "Yeah?"
"Terrible rhyme scheme. But sweet. You keep being sweet." She pats my arm, her hand tiny against my bicep. "Sweet's what breaks through when nothing else can."
After cleanup, after everyone leaves, Lacy and I stand in the bookstore, string lights still glowing soft overhead. The space smells like orc spices and human coffee, the blend strange and right.
"You did good tonight," she says.
"We did good."
She turns in my arms, her hands sliding up my chest to link behind my neck. "When this is over, when we've won or lost or whatever happens, I need you to know something."
"What?"
"This, us, tonight. It's already worth it. Whatever comes next, I don't regret any of it."
I kiss her then, slow and deep, tasting the promise in her words. Tomorrow brings council decisions and potential consequences, but right now there's just this: the woman I love,the story we're writing together, and the stubborn hope that truth triumphs over fear.
The bank balance on my phone makes my stomach clench. Three thousand dollars left from what I've saved over two years of careful living, half-paychecks stacked into safety. I read the number, then at the van rental estimate Darius pulled up, then back at the number.
"You're sure about this?" Darius leans against my kitchen counter, eating my leftovers without asking, as usual. "That's your emergency fund."
"This is an emergency." I tap through the rental booking, fingers too big for the form fields, backspacing and retyping. "One night got people talking. We need to keep talking, louder."
"The council votes in two weeks. You really think a food truck and some readings will change minds that decided?"
"Blair's donor hasn't decided. You said he showed up last night but left early. That means he's watching." I hit confirm before I can second-guess, watching my savings drop by eight hundred dollars for a week-long van rental. "We give him something to see."
Darius swallows, sets down the container. "You're betting everything on a maybe."
"I'm betting on us being worth knowing. That's not a maybe."
The van I pick up the next morning is ancient, white paneling rusted at the seams, the engine coughing like it's got opinions about the whole venture. But it runs, and the back holds equipment when I fold down the seats, and that's enough.
Mara commits her commercial kitchen for prep work. I drain another thousand buying supplies: bulk flour, seasonal vegetables from the orc farming collective two hours north, spices shipped from the homeland at prices that make me wince. Darius loans me his sound system, the good one he uses for enclave gatherings, refusing payment.
"You're family," he says when I try to insist. "Family doesn't charge."
I nearly hug him. Settle for a shoulder clasp that makes him grunt.
Five days. Five locations across the city, each one chosen strategic: the business district at lunch, the university quad mid-afternoon, the park near City Hall at dinner, the weekend farmer's market, the final night back at Lacy's bookstore for a closing celebration.
Lacy helps me map it out, her practical mind filling gaps my enthusiasm leaves. "You'll need permits for food service."
"Already filed. Tess knows someone who rushed the approval."
"And contingency plans if crowds get hostile?"
"Darius is recruiting volunteers for each location. Mixed groups, orc and human, so it's clear we're united." I spread ingredients across her kitchen table, prepping what I can in advance. "We'll have first aid, de-escalation training, and if it gets bad, we pack and leave. No heroes."
She watches me work, chopping vegetables with the easy rhythm of practice. "You've thought this through."
"I've thought about everything except what happens if I fail." The knife stills in my hand. "If this doesn't work, I'm out of money and ideas."
"Then we'll figure out new ideas." She covers my hand with hers, stilling the anxious energy. "But I don't think you'll fail. I've seen you win people over with bad poetry and breakfast. Actual good food? You're unstoppable."
